


Good things

by Neonbat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bandages, Both are roughed up, Canon Divergent, Dean being introspective, Dean isn't messing around this time, Frotting, M/M, Mini case creature fic, New Couple, human!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 22:32:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17150288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neonbat/pseuds/Neonbat
Summary: Dean and Castiel are on a case when it goes a bit south thanks to a blizzard. With the monsters apparently dead they find a hunter's cabin and hunker down for the night to lick their wounds and enjoy a relatively successful evening together.





	Good things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cryptomoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptomoon/gifts).



> Holiday troooppeeesss!<3 Hope you like it crypto!<3  
> And thanks to saltnhalo for betaing!<3

“Hang in there buddy, I’ve got you.” Dean grimaced against the fresh gust of harsh wind that tore through the dense foliage, biting at their scrapes and bruises with icy fangs. 

 

It was grade-A bullshit. They’d survived a nasty run-in with a Chenoo only to get caught in the middle of a goddamn blizzard in Vermont. Getting back to Baby was plain out of the question. It had been hard enough hiking up to the hunting grounds when they could  _ see _ , and it would be suicide to go slipping down those paths now that the sun was setting. 

 

“Dean, there could be more out there,” Castiel ground out, hissing softly as he pressed too much weight over his right ankle. He’d taken a nasty spill an hour ago thanks to the yeti-like humanoids slowly melting into a pile of goo a mile back. Chenoo weren’t particularly vicious, not compared to other flesh-eaters like Wendigo, but they were fast, even in the shin-deep snow.    
  
There were cabins around here, Dean knew that much. The nosey little couple that had gestured them up the hill earlier had said as much, along with their friggin’ life’s story. As if Dean gave two craps about their grandkid’s recitals. What old couple ran around with a weather advisory out, anyway?

 

“Yeah well, we’ll melt them too.” Dean smirked, adjusting his grip on Castiel’s shoulder as they limped along. Seeing Castiel’s face pinched with pain, nose red, and lips pale from cold, was still jarring. Don’t get him wrong, he was overjoyed to have his best friend back after seeing Lucifer run him through, but seeing him human again was… Well, everyone could remember last time.

 

Except this wasn’t going to be like last time. There was no way in hell Dean was letting Cas fend for himself again. 

 

“Up there.” Castiel pointed through the haze of white over a bramble of bushes. A glimpse of dark wood and the hulking shape of a cabin was visible when the wind momentarily paused for another breath, readying herself for another volley. 

 

Dean puffed a hard breath through his frozen nose, ”Fucking finally, let’s hustle. Can’t feel my goddamn toes.” Castiel, for once, didn’t argue about his choice in curse words as he made a hard grunt of agreement and redoubled their efforts.

 

It took nearly ten minutes to trudge across a yard that would normally take two in the hellish storm, but they made it to the creaking porch only to be faced with a small predicament.

 

“No fires inside, there’s probably no one in right?” Dean peered through the frosted windows as much as he could. 

 

“Does it matter?” Castiel grumbled, reaching to try the door. Of course, locked. No one would leave these cabins up here unlocked, even if they were a hike and a half to get to. 

 

Dean shook his head, “Alright, move, gimpy.” He jerked his head to the side to scoot Castiel out of the way. It had been a while since he had to LAPD something, but he wasn’t  _ that _ old yet. He hoped.

 

He kicked, and the ancient door popped open as if it was made out of crackers and a prayer. Wagging a tired brow at Castiel, he picked up his backpack and shuffled inside. Everything had a fine layer of dust on it, and it was still cold as all hell inside, but it was a definite step up. 

 

“You broke the door,” Castiel smirked as he hobbled inside, tossing his own bag to the side as he attempted to close the door to keep the raging snow out.

 

“I didn’t know they made doors out of graham crackers, so sue me.” Huffing, Dean snagged a chair from the squat two-person dining area set right in the middle of the small kitchenette. He propped the chair in front of the door and glanced around for something else to pile onto it. An ancient phone book and a few spare logs from the stack by the cob-webbed fireplace went onto the chair to help reinforce it a bit. There was still a draft, but it was serviceable. 

 

“I’ll get a fire going, get the medkit out,” Dean said over his shoulder as he fished out his fire-starting kit from his bag. Whenever they got back to the bunker and Castiel was healed up enough not to lord it over him, Dean was going to thank his fussy best friend for insisting they take their whole kits with them instead of leaving most of their shit in Baby while they hunted. ‘Anything could happen, Dean’, ‘I didn’t come back so I can freeze to death’, and other such gems had already been scowled at him over the past four hours.

 

Another handful of minutes later saw a fire burning hot in the hearth, and Castiel dropping down on the scratchy sofa. The cabin wasn’t large, just one big open room with a lofted bed over the one other door which Dean assumed to be a bathroom. 

 

They waited until the fire had a chance to work its magic until they shed their boots and their outer coats. Dean felt like a tiger had gotten a hold of him, but they hadn’t been expecting three of the damn things. It was unusual enough to have one down this far, but three was Bermuda triangle level what-the-fuckery.   
  
“How do I look?” Dean asked, peeling off his shirt with a tremble. It was still cold as all hell in the cabin, but at least it was warm enough to doctor their wounds and get a fresh shirt on from their bags.    
  
“About like I do.” Castiel smirked back, tossing a rag for Dean to pour some disinfectant on. Despite only being human for a total of two months by now, they’d fallen into a rhythm. Sam was happy to babysit Jack and show him the ropes while Dean and Castiel hunted, and sometimes even Sam would join them and leave Jack with Mary. All in all, it was turning out to be an easier set up than anyone had expected. If it wasn’t for the monster-slaying, it would almost feel domestic.   
  
Dean grunted, digging into the deepest cut on his right shoulder until he felt the hard piece lodged within.” _ Motherfu — _ is this a damn claw?” He picked out a long length of white that almost looked like bone if it hadn’t been for the jagged point. “Friggin’ Chenoo.” They weren’t hard to kill, but they packed a punch.

 

“Not to minimize your trials, but can I direct your attention to my ankle?” Castiel rolled his eyes gently, having little to no sympathy for Dean’s whining. They both knew Dean had suffered far worth than a light mauling before.

 

“Yeah yeah, heft it up here Jane Eyre, wouldn’t want you swooning again,” Dean volleyed back, shifting so Castiel could gingerly raise his leg up onto the couch.    
  
Castiel glared him down as Dean peeled off his sock. “ _ Swooning _ ? Dean, swooning?” He scowled, “My ankle got caught in a snowdrift.”

 

Chortling quietly, Dean ran his fingers down the pale olive stretch of skin, massaging gently to feel if anything was out of sorts. He glanced up, watching Castiel blanch and grimace at the touch, but he didn’t recoil, so that was a good sign. “Doesn’t feel like anything is snapped in half, so at worst a small fracture.” His fingers continued to massage along the exposed skin, kneading into the sole of Castiel’s foot with firm strokes of his thumbs.    
  
Castiel puffed a deep breath through his nose, eyes trailing up to meet with Dean’s. “That’s… surprisingly good,” he admitted with a thin smile. After everything in the past few years, it was hard for even Castiel not to be pessimistic sometimes. 

 

“Could be worse,” Dean hummed, quirking a playful brow as his touch trailed a little higher, cupping Castiel’s foot in his broad palms.   
  
A soft sigh dusted past Castiel’s lips at the languid massage. “How’s that?” he inquired, humoring with a tender smile.

 

“We could  _ not _ be in a semi-warm, secluded cabin, by ourselves,” he ventured, cheeks coloring a faint red. This was still very new, very uncharted territory they were sailing here. It had scarcely been a week since they’d shared a timid kiss on a rainy Tuesday morning, and they’d barely spoken about it since. Dean knew something had shifted between them, even if they couldn’t quite talk about it. Things were… better.

 

Castiel relaxed a little into the couch, bright, blue gaze boring into Dean so intently that Dean scarcely felt the cold anymore. ”Negating the possibility of more undead ‘yeti’ shuffling around out there, that does sound what is commonly referred to as… romantic.” His tongue peeked past his lips to wet the blizzard-chapped skin. 

 

Dean’s smile doubled, and he ducked his head to focus on easing Castiel’s sore ankle. It felt ridiculous that it took nearly losing Castiel permanently for Dean to realize just what the once-angel had meant to him. All he knew it that he couldn’t lean over Castiel’s broken body again without breaking himself. He’d never dared to hope Castiel felt the same way even with all the ‘profound bond’ talk, but Cas… Hell, he thought maybe Cas had been waiting on his monumentally dense ass to catch up all along.

 

“I want to go on vacation,” Dean blurted into the stillness. ”Like Hawaii or somewhere. Let the kid run around in the surf, and we can work on our tans. Let mom and Sam get their tropical tourist on.” It had felt like a pipe dream before, but with Lucifer sealed off in where-ever that other dimension was, for the time being, Dean wanted a goddamn break. They  _ deserved _ it, dammit!

 

“Really?” Castiel’s brow quirked, “I thought you were the one saying our job was never done?”

 

Dean’s hands stilled. “That’s the problem. It probably will never be. Unless there’s a button we can push to wipe out all supes, there’ll always be attacks, deaths… Shit going down. We’ve saved the world how many goddamn times by now? We can take a vacation with everything — I don’t know, imploding!” Dean sighed, tossing aside a wad of used gauze.“Is that so much to ask for?” 

 

For a long time, it had felt like exactly that, but now? Dean was getting a little tired of forcing himself to be a martyr, not even he had so much to fight and live for these days. 

 

Castiel shifted, easing his ankle down so he could shift to the other side of the couch and loop his arm around Dean’s shoulders. “I don’t think it’s too much to ask for at all, Dean. I’ve wanted your happiness from the very start. I just want you to be happy.” Castiel always said things with such earnesty that it burned a bit of jealousy in Dean’s chest. How could he just lay it all out on the line like that without considering the risk of falling?

 

“I… I want that for you too. For you, Sammy, Mom, hell, even Damien.” Dean ignored Castiel’s eyeroll at Jack’s latest nickname. “So what do you say? After this, just shorts, Mai-tais, and being obnoxious tourists for a bit?” Dean reached out to gather his arms around Castiel’s body and pull him close, holding him loosely just in case Cas wanted to squirm away. They hadn’t exactly discussed ‘cuddling’ either.

 

Castiel sank into the hold, melting his body against Dean’s with a quiet, barely-there sigh. ”I guess I’ll have to take Jack and I shopping at the Walmart for swim trunks,” he replied with a coy grin, his tendency to add unnecessary ‘the’s’ in front of words charmingly grating.

 

Not rising to Castiel’s bait, Dean simply rolled his eyes and rested his chin against Castiel’s shoulders. ”Or,” he swallowed the bubble of nerves that threatened to seal his lips, ”We could always just sneak out and skinny dip.” They hadn’t progressed past lingering embraces, Dean wasn’t sure if Castiel even wanted to, or if he could handle it himself… But the desire was there. Hell, if his dreams were anything to go by lately, the desire was there in fucking spades.

 

Castiel hummed quietly in thought. “Hmm, I hear in some parts of the world there are miniscule fish that swim up the urethra if one doesn’t have proper covering.” He hid the devilish grin in Dean’s arm, body faintly shaking from his barely-contained mirth.

 

“Oh ha-ha, you’re a regular cut up.” Dean smirked, breath catching when Castiel turned in his arms to aim a soft, dozy smile in his direction.”I just… want to make more memories with you that don’t start with monsters, blood, or the threat of death.” 

 

Castiel’s eyes softened with the line of his smile. “I’d like that,” he whispered, and the ambient warmth of the fire against the cold felt a tad warmer in the wake of it.    
  
Their lips met in a warm press, a gentle slide to contrast the first time they’d kissed, which had been desperate and needy. They knew they had each other’s backs this time. That neither of them was allowed to make stupid, rash decisions anymore without the other stomping down into death and hauling their asses back to where they belonged.

 

Dean guided Castiel over him as he sank back on the uncomfortable couch, relishing the weight of his old friend, and new lover, on his body. Castiel groaned softly, reaching to grasp the side of Dean’s face as he wiggled to position himself a little more gracefully on Dean. 

 

Castiel’s kisses were clumsy and searching, but Dean was more than happy to guide him through them. Dean knew Castiel’s sexual partners could be counted on one hand, and a part of him was jealously happy with that. No one else should see Castiel like this. No one else had the damn right to see someone so beautiful. 

 

His fingers skimmed up the side of Castiel’s body, taking in the warming skin, the bandages, cuts, and the raised bruises of battle. Dean wanted to live for the days where these kinds of casual injuries were things of the past. Where the only wound on Castiel’s body would be a bee sting from his garden.

 

“Hey, wait up,” he murmured, laughing softly as Castiel grumbled in reply. “Let me up for a minute.” Dean slipped out from under Castiel’s body with little to no help from above, and tugged the ancient quilt from the back of the sofa and stretched it out in front of the fire with their sleeping bags. “The loft looks like it might send us through the floor, so… maybe camp out down here?” He grinned, positioning their guns and daggers near their heads before he settled on the make-shift mattress, patting the spot beside of him.

 

Castiel eased off the sofa carefully, falling into Dean’s waiting arms as he avoided putting weight on his injury. “In front of a fireplace, I believe this qualifies as ‘romantic’, Dean.” 

 

“Hey, I can break it out when I need to. But I don’t think being covered in bruises and sans wine makes this very romantic. We’ll have to do a cabin visit sometime when we’re not under threat of undead yetis.” He smirked, trailing his hands up Castiel’s upper body again.

 

Castiel shivered under his touch. ”Cold hands,” he complained, pressing closer.

 

“Well, warm them up, sweetheart.” Dean looked up at Castiel as the other crouched half-straddling his lap. They were in such uncharted territory here that Dean didn’t know what would be crossing the line.

 

“...Dean?” Castiel’s eyes widened, hands raising to clasp over Dean’s that had settled on his chest. ”Do you…?”

 

“Anything Cas, with you I want to do damn near anything. I won’t lie, it still kind of freaks me out, but more because you were an angel not the… you… having a dick thing.” Dean finished lamely. He’d entertained the idea of sleeping with men before and had shared a few sloppy back-room handjobs before, but nothing like this. Nothing that  _ meant _ anything. 

 

A radiant smile bloomed on Castiel’s lips and he laughed, tilting his head against Dean’s shoulder to try and muffle the worst of his chuckling. ”That’s good to know Dean, genderless as angels are, I’ve grown rather fond of certain parts.” He shook his head, turning his head to kiss up the length of Dean’s neck. 

 

Sighing into the kisses, Dean’s head tilted into them. ”On that note, how about we lose some layers?” He murmured breathlessly. 

 

“Aren’t you supposed to seduce me in front of the firelight?” Castiel retaliated even while his hands were drifting down to catch Dean’s remaining shirt layer. 

 

Dean shivered initially, the draught coming in from the crack in the door persistent. “What’s more romantic than surviving together?” He offered the most charming, easy smile in his repertoire.

 

Rolling his eyes, Castiel helped Dean pulled off his own remaining layer, and toss it aside. It was probably too dangerous to get fully undressed, but this would do for now.

 

Well, almost.

 

“Dean,” Castiel sighed, arms wrapping around Dean’s head as his lover leaned in to start mouthing open kisses against Castiel’s chest. 

 

It was different for Dean to tease a firm, muscular chest rather than the soft mounds he was used to, but the drastic change was still doing it for him and then some. His mouth trailed its way to Castiel’s left nipple, which had narrowly avoided being scratched off by a Chenoo talon hours before. His tongue lathed against the air-perked bud, pulling a low moan from Castiel above him. Dean latched, teasing, licking, and sucking until Castiel was making a mess of his hair. 

 

“ _ Dean _ .” Castiel’s voice was growing more demanding, and he gripped Dean’s head back by a fistful of hair to lean down and recapture the lips too busy tormenting him to give him any  _ proper _ attention. 

 

They fell into a heap once more, kissing, touching, and feeling lengths of skin that had only ever been touched in a way clinical. Too many times had they touched each other fearing the worst, except for now. Now they had a hell of a lot of catching up to do. 

 

“Dean, I want… I want to touch you.” Castiel had touched Dean’s very soul before, but now he could do only this and he wanted to recapture at least a bit of that deep intimacy again. 

 

Nodding, Dean took a hold of Castiel’s right hand and trailed it down his body to his belt buckle, helping him make quick work of it and his jean button and zipper. Quicker than he’d meant to, Castiel dove a hand down under the hem of Dean’s jeans, cupping his lover’s erection through the front of his boxers, scorching against his palm.

 

Dean turned his head into the groove of Castiel’s neck and shoulder, groaning soft into the rapidly warming skin. He thought having a man’s hand down there might freak him out a little, but Castiel’s touch only brought fire to his veins. He pushed his hips up, seeking more, sighing sweetly as Castiel complied and wormed his hand underneath the hem of his boxers. 

 

Castiel’s human touch against him was exquisite. A bit rough, unsure, but so focused he could practically hear the awe coming from above him. ”C-come on cowboy, I showed you mine.” Dean rumbled, nipping a reminder at Castiel’s stubbled jaw. 

 

“Right.” Castiel pulled away with a low groan of protest. They scrambled to get their jeans and underwear pushed down, freeing their lengths to the luke-warm air as they stretched out on their make-shift cot, intent to touch. 

 

This wasn’t exactly how Dean had planned their first encounter to be, but then again, it was fitting, considering their lives. Getting handsy in the middle of fucking nowhere, snowed in, and possibly being tracked by monsters was just par for the course. 

 

“ _ Dean _ ”, Castiel moaned, pushing against him as they slotted their hips together. It was awkward and a little  _ too _ much friction, but neither of them wanted to part their lips long enough to do anything about it. The more they ground and shifted, the more pre-come leaked between them, easing the worst of the friction until Castiel was keening soft sounds into Dean’s lips. Sometimes it was easy to forget the man was still getting used to being just that. A man. Pleasure, pain, hurt, hunger — Cas had to learn all these things all over again, and this time, Dean was sticking around to help him through it. 

 

“That’s it Cas,” Dean panted against his lips, hand snaking down to cup Castiel’s pert ass, kneading the globe of firm muscle in time with the roll of their hips. All he could do was focus on the shifts of Castiel’s face in the firelight, each gasp of pleasure parting his lips or the way his eyelashes fluttered. He felt like an idiot for hesitating this long when he could have been seeing Castiel like  _ this _ for years.

 

Reaching up, he spat in his hand, ignoring the scrunch-faced look Castiel gave him. He’d be thankful for it in a moment. Snaking his hand between them, Dean closed his fist around their slotted lengths, head lolling as his spit coated their cocks in a blissful slide. 

 

Castiel’s quiet noises of urgency doubled as Dean fisted their lengths, stroking, twisting, and thumbing against their shafts until Castiel was leaking liberally over his fingertips.    
  
“ _ Dean _ , I can’t… I’m going to —” Castiel gasped, rutting into Dean’s hand as if he might die if he stopped. 

 

“Good, do it. Come on me, Cas,” Dean whispered, tightening his hand around them — and with a few more hard pumps Castiel was falling to pieces between them. Castiel practically writhed, a punched out breath sucking the air from his lungs as he let Dean milk four hard streams from him before he couldn’t take the stimulation any longer and had to move away. 

 

Now coated in Castiel’s come, Dean fisted his erection, whimpering softly against Castiel’s shoulder as his own peak fast approached in the wake of seeing Castiel come undone. 

 

A sudden touch against his thighs and balls sucked a gasp from Dean’s throat, and a fresh moan was pressed into Castiel’s skin as he widened his legs enough to give Castiel access to the full weight of his groin. The thumbing touch and rumbled, near-nonsensical praises Castiel murmured into his ear had him chasing his high faster than he wanted, but he couldn’t stop himself. He spilled hard between them, adding another layer of slick and stickiness against their abdomens and the sleeping bags below. 

 

They were a mess of sweat and come with little access to water, but even if they had to resign themselves to staying the night covered in their own filth, it was worth it and then some.

 

—

 

A shrill cry in the night jolted Dean from a fitful sleep. Within moments his hand closed around his knife, and Castiel was cocking a shotgun while blinking sleep from his eyes. 

 

“...Guess that answers if there’s more,” Dean grumbled. The pale blue dawn had barely crept into the horizon, a dusting of snow still whipping lazily against the windows. 

 

A harsh scraping sound prickled one corner of the cabin, and a grating chitter joined the howl of the wind. They could hear the creature, or creatures, darting around outside, fast, and bold. 

 

Slowly, they got to their feet, eyeing doors and windows alike. A hard thump against the barred door swiveled their attention, and Dean motioned for Castiel to hang back as he stepped closer. 

 

A nail scraped the door, slow and insistent. “What’s the matter child? ...do you need more rest?” A croaking, choked voice rasped from outside, punctuated by the sound of its nails. 

 

Worst still, the voice sounded vaguely familiar. 

 

Glass erupted into the cabin as a small humanoid vaulted in from outside in a flurry of claws and flabby grey skin. The creature collided into Castiel with the force of a high-school linebacker, sending Cas to the floor and the shotgun skittering out of reach. 

 

Before Dean had a chance to turn and help his lover, the barred door buckled inwards and permitted the gnarled, warped form of the little older woman they’d received directions from the day before. 

 

“Naughty naughty… you’ve killed the hounds.” She smiled, black, chipped teeth coated in brackish saliva that stunk of rotting flesh. Ice spread and cracked under her grotesque feet, and icicles hung from the great flabs of flesh that made up breasts against her warped chest.

 

The presence of a pack of Chenoo in the area made abrupt sense. “Cas! They’re Wechuge, fire —” His warning abruptly caught off as the monster launched herself at his legs, and he barely managed to aim a kick to send the four-foot-nothing creature rolling a few feet to the left. 

 

A harsh screech from behind him was the only warning Dean got to dive out of the way as another grey, bulbous being streaked by, the ugly mass of stringy hair on its head alight with flame. 

 

Castiel stepped up beside of him, a fresh cut oozing blood lazily down his cheek, but one of Dean’s lighters in his hand, along with a mostly empty bottle of rubbing alcohol they’d left on the table the night before. 

 

“Set them on fire,” Castiel finished with a low growl, tracking the two creatures that crouched to regroup. 

 

The fireplace still burned low behind them, not what Dean really would have wanted, but about all they had in terms of open flames.    
  
Dean fished his favored gun from his belt and unloaded before the two creatures to decide to launch again. The male one, what Dean figured was her mousey husband from the day before, fell hard, screeching at its legs were torn to shreds by Dean’s firearm. It wouldn’t keep it down long, but they just needed to get the things mostly immobile first. 

 

Castiel turned, and Dean seized the moment to act as a distraction. He darted towards their backpacks while Castiel dove for the shotgun and the Wechuge took the bait and threw herself towards Dean as the closest target. 

 

It earned him three talons dug into his forearm for his trouble, but two seconds later the Wechuge flew off him ass over teakettle as Castiel unloaded two rounds from a shotgun into her chest at near point-blank range. 

 

Cutting off the creature’s hands and feet without getting bitten had Dean laughing deliriously. Apparently comparing it to the world’s most dangerous puppy was only amusing to Dean. The bodies went into the fireplace, the shrill dying wails sweeping through the small cabin and out into the early morning. 

 

The cabin had grown cold again, a sad broken thing that had certainly seen better days. They stank with blood and worse, cold bit into their skin, and the morning kept on without them, but it was just another day in the life of the Winchesters.

 

“Damn, I’m starved. Pancakes?” Dean shouldered his pack, holding out his arm for Castiel to take while they made their arduous trek back down the barely-there trails.

**Author's Note:**

> For more information, requests, or updates, go to: http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/ and search #Neon-writes or #Neon Writes


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